


Journey

by Black_Tea_and_Bones



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Medieval road trip, Sanvers is background for now, Supercorp is the main ship, winged Kara
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-24 04:40:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9702569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_Tea_and_Bones/pseuds/Black_Tea_and_Bones
Summary: The King is dead.Lady Lena, the King’s bastard half-sister, is next in line for the throne, but her stepmother, mad with grief and desperate for revenge, has stolen Lena’s army and taken her castle, forcing Lena to flee the Capitol in search of allies.Her journey will take her places both familiar and strange. From the noble houses of her peers where she grew up, to the rebel camps of the dreaded El Mayarah, where non-humans demand justice, and the last Winged God of EL will force Lena to choose between her head and her heart.





	1. The Execution

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is! The first chapter of the Medieval Fantasy fic I've been promising. 
> 
> Seems appropriate to post it today, when the Luthor-centric Episode will air :) 
> 
> I'm hoping to update every two weeks, and right now I'm aiming for about 50K, but we'll see where the road takes us. 
> 
> Feel free to come and hang out on my tumblr blackteaandbones.tumblr.com to chat supergirl, supercorp, and general shippiness :)

Chapter One

**The Execution**

 

It was the perfect day for an execution.

The sky hung low and heavy, as grey and as dreary as the crowd gathered below. A light drizzle was just beginning to fall as the gaoler dragged the condemned woman across the castle square and shoved her up the stairs onto the gallows. She submitted to the rough handling without complaint, neither cooperating nor resisting as he jerked her to a stop over the well worn trap door. Instead, she scanned the crowd, dark eyes wide and searching. But if she found what she was looking for, she gave no sign, face blank as she stood beside the dangling noose. Narrow shoulders squared in spite of the pull of the iron manacles binding her hands behind her back.

Lena almost admired her. 

“Girl’s got guts,” Maggie admitted from her place behind Lena’s seat.

Lena glanced sideways to where Lord Maxwell, their host and the source of today’s _amusement_ , was reclining with every evidence of lazy enjoyment  in his high-backed throne. The ornately carved wood was draped in furs to ward off the chill, and a canopy overhead shielded them from the rain, while the dais where they sat gave them a perfect view of the execution. Max gave no indication of having overheard her guard’s quiet comment, drinking deeply from a heavy goblet of spiced wine, his eyes fixed on the scene before them, but Lena held her tongue anyway.

Nothing in Tionel city was as she remembered it, Including Lord Maxwell. The charming and intelligent, if somewhat impetuous and cocky, boy had become someone she didn’t recognize. Or much like.

Drums rolled.

Max raised a hand, and the crowd fell silent.

A man in the robes of an adjudicator stepped up to the podium beside the scaffold. His dark hair was peppered with grey and slicked back with a thick grease. He had small reading glasses perched on the end of an over-long nose and he sniffed as he unrolled the scroll in his hands, as if this entire procedure were beneath him.

 “Alexandra of the house of Danvers, from the town of Midvale,” he read in a nasal whine. “You have been tried and found guilty of murder, theft, and consorting with Elian fugitives. Your sentence is death by hanging.” He paused, lowering the scroll and looking up over his glasses at the woman standing above him. “However, Lord Maxwell wishes me to repeat his offer of Clemency. Should you consent to name your co-conspirators and aid in the location and capture of your leader, you will be awarded a full pardon, and a place in his Lordship’s service.”

A whisper ran through the crowd.

Alexandra Danvers’ only response was to spit at the adjudicator’s feet, lip curled in a silent sneer. Her defiance earned her a heavy backhand from the goaler that nearly knocked her off her feet. She staggered, but managed to stay upright, jerking her head to toss short, dark hair out of her eyes. Rain and blood ran together down her chin. “ _Nimu zha_ awuhkh zrhythrevium _te_!” She growled.

 The whisper rose to an angry rumble.

“She’s _El Mayarah_!?” Maggie hissed under the cover of the crowd. “I didn’t think they’d gotten this far North.”

Lena frowned. “Apparently they’re wider spread than we thought.”

In truth, she was surprised. Non-humans could be found throughout all of the provinces of course, but the true beasts, and those who couldn’t pass for human mostly kept to the forests and small villages, and other than the occasional hunt when one of them was causing trouble, or for a bit of sport, the nobility had largely left them alone. The ones who could pass often made their way to the towns and cities where they either hid their nature, or lived as second class citizens, begging, or doing work deemed too demeaning for the _real_ people, and living on the scraps no one else wanted.  It wasn’t perfect, but it had worked.

Until her brother took the throne.  

The El Mayarah were his legacy.

“Lord Maxwell...” Lena laid the tips of her fingers on the Lord’s wrist where it rested on the arm of his seat. “Is this not a matter for the crown? If this woman is truly a member of those ridiculous Elian rebels, perhaps she should be questioned further before your most excellent executioner puts her knowledge beyond our reach?”

Max passed off his goblet to a page waiting in attendance beside him, and plucked Lena’s fingers from his sleeve, pressing them gently between his hands. “My dear Lena, I would spare you the harsh truths if I could, but in these dark times we must act quickly and decisively. Your brother died without an heir, leaving us to finish his battles without the guidance of the crown.” He patted the back of her hand. “If you would prefer not to watch, I can have you escorted back to your rooms.”

 _Condescending Bastard..._ It took every last ounce of her tattered pride for Lena to resist the urge to draw the little dagger she kept hidden in her boot and stab him in the eye with it. Teeth set, she managed to keep her expression smooth and pleasant.  “There _is_ an heir,” she pointed out, putting a little steel behind the silk of her voice. “Our father acknowledged us both.”

Max shook his head, smile turned indulgent. “A princess is not a queen, my lady.”  

He turned away before she could formulate a response, gesturing for the hangman to continue, and Lena was forced to let the slight go, sitting back in her chair and folding her hands tightly in her lap. He was right, she wasn’t a queen.

Not _yet_. 

If she had been, she wouldn’t have been forced to sit through this distasteful spectacle of an execution, and she would be able to demand the audience Max kept dangling in front of her, instead of begging for it.

Lena could feel Maggie _not_ saying anything behind her. They had only been in Tionel a few days, and the guard had already made her opinion of Lord Maxwell very clear.

The crowd was still humming, but Lena couldn’t tell if their anger was for their Lord, or the woman currently having a noose fitted around her neck. She suspected it was the former. El Mayarah had always been dedicated to the people. It was part of why the group had enraged Lex. Bad enough that they were made up primarily of Elian’s and Elian sympathisers, but the way they had turned his own people against him... Lex had refused to accept that.

He’d also refused to admit that it was his own damn fault.

The drums rolled again, and the hangman stepped back, reaching for the lever...

“Stop!”

The command rang clear and bright from the crowd. The drums faltered, and the people fell silent, stepping back and parting to reveal a figure cloaked in red.

Lena’s eyes widened. Surely it couldn’t be...

Max tensed beside her, and Lena could see his knuckles going white where he gripped the arm of his throne. A sharp gesture halted the hangman’s hand on the lever. Max rose smoothly from his seat and stepped down from the dais, his guard falling in around him. “It seems we have a dissenter in our midst,” he drawled, but Lena could hear the excitement under his carefully disinterested tone. “To whom does our dear Alexandra owe this delay?”

The figure stepped forward out of the crowd, slim fingers drawing back her hood. “You know who I am, Max.”

Max kept walking, but his guard faltered. Ten of them, all tall, well muscled men in armour, with swords at their waists, and they _faltered,_ nearly stumbling to a halt before tripping after their Lord.

Lena felt the blood drain from her face. When she had seen the cloak she’d wondered... but why would _she_ be _here?_

“My Lady...?” Maggie sounded concerned.

“I know her.” Lena saw no point in subterfuge at this point. “I met her down in the city yesterday, I told you, when I couldn’t find that damn street...”

 

_Yesterday_

 

“Are you lost?”

 _In oh so many ways_... Lena turned with a denial poised on her lips, only to hesitate. She had expected an overzealous shopkeeper desperate to make a sale, or perhaps a poorly disguised thief hoping to lead her astray. But instead she found a young woman cloaked in red, with bright blue eyes and a smile so unambiguously genuine that Lena found herself speaking without thought.

“I’m afraid I am. I thought I had my bearings, but the city has changed somewhat since I was last here. How did you know?”

“You had that ‘panicked, but determined to hide it’ look on your face.” The woman’s smile took on a teasing tilt, as if inviting Lena to find amusement in her own predicament, and Lena felt her lips quirk up in response, entirely without her permission.

Who _was_ this woman?

She was fair; honey-blond hair pulled back into braids at her temples and wrapping around her head like a crown before falling in loose curls down her back. The curve of her cheek suggested softness, but there was steel in the line of her jaw. She was tall, but the red cloak covered her completely, leaving only her face and hands bare. If she had any weapons, they were well hidden. She did have a basket, the handles held loosely in front of her. Perhaps she was only a fellow shopper then. Still, Lena wasn’t used to being read so easily.

“Was I that obvious?” she asked ruefully.

The woman shrugged. “I’m good at spotting people in trouble. Would you like some help?”

Lena should have said no. This damned city might have turned into a labyrinth, but any idiot could find the castle, and the sun was already past its zenith. Her guards were going to be furious with her for sneaking away as it was, and Maggie in particular would give her that long-suffering look, as if Lena putting herself in harm’s way was a personal insult.

Still... the damage was already done. She might as well have something to show for it.

“And in return?”

 The woman shook her head. “I just like to be useful.”

Lena raised a brow. “Well, then I suppose I should make use of you.” The slightly suggestive lilt was unintentional, but Lena couldn’t deny being pleased when the woman blushed anyway, ducking her head slightly before looking up through sun-touched lashes.

“My name is Kara,” she offered, shifting her basket to one hand and holding out the other.

Lena took it, charmed in spite of herself by the simple gesture, so far removed from the elaborate introductions she was used to.  “Lena,” she replied, noting that in spite of her firm grip, Kara’s skin was smooth and her nails were clean and neatly trimmed. Not the hands of a labourer then. And not a scribe, there were no ink stains. An artisan of some kind perhaps? Or maybe she was a shopkeeper after all, out running errands while her husband minded the counter. She wasn’t a gentlewoman; neither her manners, nor her attire were right. Though she was certainly nice looking enough to have caught some gentleman’s eye, regardless of her station.

Lena couldn’t resist the urge to hold onto Kara’s hand a little longer than necessary, brushing her thumb lightly over soft skin. “And if you can manage to untangle this mess of streets for me, you’d be my hero.”

 “Oh,” Kara reclaimed her hand and tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear, a hint of red still dusting her cheeks. “Well, where would you like to go?”

 _Home_... The answer came unbidden, but this one Lena managed to keep behind her teeth. She was determined to hold on to some of her secrets. Though she suspected it wouldn’t be easy around this woman. “There used to be a bookseller around here somewhere,” she said instead. “Hartley, was his name. He specialized in manuscripts on military history and strategy, and his maps were the most beautiful ones I’ve ever seen.”

Kara’s eyes lit up even further, if that was possible. “I know Hartley! My sister and I used to visit his shop when we were in the city, and play soldiers with pebbles on his map table. It’s not far, though you have to go the long way by West Bridge Street now. They’ve built over Merton Street.”

Well, that would explain why she couldn’t find it. Lena gestured for Kara to lead the way, falling in beside her. The heavy red cloak dragged on the cobblestones, hem parting at the front to reveal the tips of sturdy-looking brown boots as Kara walked. “You’re not from the city, then?” Lena asked.

“Oh no, we had a farm in the country. My foster mother was a physician for the old Lord and Lady, but she left the city when she got married. They still used to send for her all the time, I don’t think they liked their new doctor, and sometimes she would bring Alex and I with her.”

“Alex?”

“My sister.”

Kara seemed utterly unconcerned about sharing details of her life with a perfect stranger. To someone who had grown up in a world where no one revealed themselves with anything so crude as words, and honesty was tantamount to vulnerability, it was unnerving. Lena couldn’t help but look for the catch, even though every instinct she had told her that Kara was genuine.

They crossed the West Bridge amidst a crowd. Several women waved and smiled at Kara, and a few men tipped their hats, but no one stopped or interrupted them. Lena thought she saw a speculative look or two aimed her way, but she was wearing a plain blue cloak over a simple dress, her jewels were all miles away, and it had been years since she had walked these streets.

“When did you move to the city?” She asked once they were back on the street.

“Oh the farm is still home,” Kara said. “I’m here to see my sister.”

“The sister you used to play pebble soldiers with?”

“Oh we still play soldiers.” Kara grinned conspiratorially, and for a moment Lena saw just the hint of something hidden, something deep, in her blue, blue eyes, before it slipped away, leaving only her strange, seemingly ever-present brightness that by its mere existence invited you to share in it. “Just not with pebbles.”

Lena would have liked to ask more about _that_ , but they had arrived, and the moment passed.

The store looked older, and a bit shabbier, but the writing samples and maps hanging in the windows were the same, and the same bell tinkled a cheery greeting as they entered.  

Hartley himself seemed the most changed by time. Lena remembered him as a small, spry man. His long fingers stained black with ink, and smudges on his chin where he used to rub them when he was thinking. There had been a scattering of grey in his sandy brown hair, and lines around his eyes from squinting over his work, but he had never seemed old to her, his energy and enthusiasm lending him a youth his years couldn’t touch.

Now his hair was white, and those talented fingers were knotted and bent with arthritis. He didn’t bound over to greet them, but shuffled slowly and carefully. When he smiled though, Lena recognized her friend.

“Kara!” He exclaimed, and his voice too was still vibrant. “I haven’t seen you in months. Did you finish reading the Malory I sold you?”

Kara clasped her hands under her chin, returning Hartley’s grin widely. “I did, and it was wonderful!” She wrinkled her nose. “I couldn’t convince Alex to try him though.”

Hartley chuckled. “Well, romances were never really to that one’s taste. I have a new lithograph detailing the bones of the hand she might find interesting. I heard she was up at the castle again, I assume that’s what brings you back to the city and not my novels?” 

“Business as usual,” Kara agreed. “But I’ve brought you someone!” 

She stood aside with a flourish, and Hartley looked past her to Lena, busy white eyebrows rising in surprise. “There’s a face I didn’t think to see again... Lena my dear, it’s been too long.” He reached out and took her hand. “You’re looking lovely.”

“Thank you.” Lena allowed herself to be drawn forward, pleased that here, one of the few places she remembered with any fondness, she was known and had been missed. “I had nearly given up on finding you before Kara came to my rescue.” 

Hartley chuckled. “Then I am in her debt.”

Kara scoffed, but she was clearly pleased. “Do you think you’ll be able to find your way back from here?” she asked Lena. “I would stay, but I have a few errands left to run, and I have an appointment tomorrow...”

“I’m sure I can,” Lena assured her, burying the small internal sigh of disappointment. The sun through the windows had painted Kara in gold, making her glow like fire on a cold night, and Lena couldn’t help but wonder, if things had been different...  “Thank you, for your help today,” She said, instead of allowing that thought to go any further. “I would have been lost without you.”

“You _were_ lost,” Kara pointed out, smirking. “But you’re welcome. Rescuing damsels in distress is sort of a hobby of mine.”

Lena smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind, should I find myself in distress again.”

“Please do. Anyone in the Market can direct you to our farm, and...” Kara reached into her cloak and pulled out a small red disk, about the size of a large coin. She pressed it into Lena’s hand closing her fingers over it. “Keep this. It may come in useful if you’re ever in need of help again.”

With that, and a final smile, she was gone.

Hartley let the last sad ring of the bell over the door die away before speaking again, his gnarled hands still pressed tightly over Lena’s. “My condolences,” he offered. “For your brother. He was always such a clever lad.”

“Thank you,” Lena said, startled that he would not only speak of her brother, but speak well. There were not many who would. Not anymore.

Hartley released Lena’s hand with a final pat. “So, what can we find for you today then? Architecture? Engineering? I have a beautiful translation of a treatise on the inner workings of a clock that you might find interesting. I don’t do much of my own copying anymore, so almost everything is second hand, but I must admit, my collection is excellent.”

“Strategy,” Lena said. “And maps. One for each province, as detailed and accurate as you have, and another one for the whole of it.”

Hartley’s face became graver. “Are you sure, my dear? There will be no going back, once you’ve started this.”  

Lena nodded. “I’m sure.”

“Very well then, I’ll have it all shipped up to the castle. I assume you’re staying with that puffed up brat of a Lord of ours?”

“I had no where else to go.” Lena pointed out, somewhat testily. She hardly needed reminding that her best hope was an ass in Lords clothing. She’d been in the city for two days already, and he still refused her a proper audience. She ate at the high table, and wanted for nothing in comfort or care, but he had avoided any topics more serious than the weather. Apparently there was some important business to be concluded tomorrow, and after that, his lordship assured her, he would be ready to listen to her proposal.

Hartley waved her off. “You must excuse my bluntness, I’m an old man, and my opinions are out of date. I know he was a friend of yours when you were small, but a lot has changed since then, and I doubt he’ll help you for any price you’re willing to pay.”

“I have to try.”

“I suppose you do at that...” Hartley sighed. “Well, I have a few smaller volumes I can give you now,” he was scanning the shelves as he spoke, pulling his chosen volumes down and handing them to her.  “I’ll send the boy with the rest tomorrow morning. And Lena...?”

 “Yes?”

“If you’re looking for people to trust... you can start with that young lady who brought you here today. She’s more than what she seems.”

That, Lena was beginning to suspect already. How much more, she wasn’t sure yet. “I’ll take it under advisement.” She tried to sound grudging, but she knew there was a smile tugging the corner of her lips. It seemed impossible not to trust Kara. What harm could she be?

“See that you do.” Hartley’s smile answered hers. “Now it’s getting late.” He ushered her out of the shop and into the street where the light was just beginning to dim. “Come back and see me if you can, before you leave. I’ll make us a pot of tea and we can talk about better times.”

“I will,” Lena agreed. “And thank you.”

He waved her off and ducked back into his shop.

Lena headed for the bridge, tucking her pile of books under one arm, and opening her hand to examine the token Kara had given her. It wasn’t a disk after all, but more of a half circle, curved instead of flat, and when she held it up in the last of the sunlight, she could see a ridge down the middle, with smaller lines radiating outwards. It wasn’t a coin at all, but a small feather, forged in steel, as red as blood against her skin.

 

_Today_

 

Max paused to let his men regain their courage without leaving them behind. He dipped his head in acknowledgement. “The descriptions don’t do you justice. May I assume you have a proposal of some kind? Or shall we proceed?”

Neither of them looked towards the gallows, but the threat was implicit.

“An exchange,” the woman offered. “Release my sister and my friends still in your dungeons, and take me in their place.”

Her _sister_ , of course. Alexandra was Alex. Playing at soldiers indeed...

“ _No!”_ The hoarse cry came from the gallows, where Alexandra had begun struggling in earnest, nearly choking herself as she tried to slip free of the noose before the hangman and the gaoler caught her between them, and dragged her back.“Don’t you _dare,_ Kara! You can’t trust him-” A fist from the hangman caught her in the stomach, and she doubled over, retching.

Kara took an angry step forward, and the guards jumped backwards, a few of them pulling their swords.

“Enough!” Max gave the hangman a nod and he slipped the noose from around Alexandra’s neck. The Gaoler took the keys from his belt and unlocked her cuffs.  She winced as the pressure on her shoulders was suddenly released, bringing her hands forward to rub at her wrists.  She moved for the edge of the platform, but the Gaoler caught her by the arm, holding her back.

“I accept your bargain,” Max agreed smoothly. “But you’ll understand if I take certain... precautions?”

He beckoned to the adjudicator, who took out a small wooden box from under his robes and handed it over. Max opened the box and pulled out a pair of slender bracelets connected by a thin chain. The bracelets were studded with little green stones, and there were green beads woven into the chain.

“He was planning this...” Lena whispered, quickly revaluating the situation, even as she felt the first flutter of panic in her belly.

Maggie shifted behind her. “Is that...?”

“Yes.”

“But I thought they were all dead...”

“It seems I was misinformed.” Lena didn’t like surprises, and this was one too many. Finding out the El Mayarah were here, and Max was hunting them, that was unsettling enough. But this... Lena hid her shaking fingers in her skirts. She still had nightmares, though she would never have admitted it in the light of day. Red flames and red wings, the smell of charred meat and screams of pain, abruptly silenced.

She understood why the guards were frightened.

Max held out the bracelets. “Your hands, My Lady?”

Kara crossed her arms. “Do I have your word that my friends and my sister will walk free?”

“Of course.” Max sent half his guard away with instructions to retrieve the prisoners in question. If he was afraid of the woman in front of him, it didn’t show. Instead he seemed... smug. Satisfied. As if all of this was nothing less than the culmination of his personal hard work and genius. Which, Lena suspected, it was.

 As much as it galled her, Lena had to admit he was brilliant.

Though she wondered if Max quite knew what he was doing as he clasped the cold metal rings around Kara’s wrists.

Her brother had challenged the gods of El.

And he’d burned for his blasphemy.

 


	2. The Stakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena visits Kara in the dungeons and learns more than she bargained for. Max makes an offer, and Maggie has a mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took a little longer than expected. 
> 
> I decided very early on to tell this story primarily from Lena's perspective, partly because it's her story, but also partly because my other stories are all from Kara and Alex's perspectives, and I wanted this one to be different. I also kind of wanted to challenge myself, Lena's voice is different from anyone I've written before.
> 
> All of that aside... Lena is really, really hard for me to write. 
> 
> The first scene of this chapter took three weeks to write. The rest of it took two days, so I think I might have my groove going now. Here's hoping to get along a little faster from here on out. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who left kudos and comments for chapter one! 
> 
> Enjoy!

 

Lena was four years old when her mother died and her father took her away to live with him in his castle.  She was five when she realized that her step mother, Queen Lillian, would never love her, and six before she understood why. She was seven when she was forbidden to touch a sword, and eight when her half-brother Lex, frustrated by her constant pestering, dared her to prove her mettle by spending a night alone in the dungeons. If she failed, she had to admit that princesses didn’t belong on the battlefield, but if she stayed until sunrise, he would train her himself, in secret.

Of _course_ she had accepted the challenge.

They bribed a guard to look the other way, and Lena crept alone down the long, chilly staircase.

The hallway at the bottom of the stairs was colder still, and the air was damp and heavy in her lungs. The stink was like nothing she had ever known; worse than the stable or the midden heap outside the kitchens. Those might smell bad, but the dungeon smelled _wrong._

The only light came from flickering torches set in sconces along the walls between the cells. Most of the doors were barred, but the helpful guard had left the last one open for her. Lena hesitated when she reached it, heart pounding in her throat. The cell was dark, and tight. There was moldy straw underfoot, and a small hole in middle of the floor, which seemed to be the source of most of the smell. If she squinted, Lena could just make out the dull gleam of iron manacles hanging from the walls, and a faint rustling in the back corner suggested rats.

For the briefest of moments, Lena wavered in her resolve, but even at eight years old, the idea of accepting defeat was unthinkable. She clutched the pendant hanging around her neck, the last gift her mother had given her before she died, feeling the bright green stone warming in its silver cage against her skin, and crossed the threshold.

Much later, she would realize that the harrowing night that had followed had been a calculated effort on Lex’s part to attempt to escape the consequences of his ill conceived wager. An attempt which failed when Lena emerged from her cell at dawn, and not a moment before, white-faced and shaking, but triumphant.

Lord Maxwell’s dungeons were nothing like her father’s, they were much cleaner for one, and better lit, but walking into them now, alone, with yet another bribed guard counting his coins behind her, Lena couldn’t help but remember that night. She toyed with the pendant still hanging around her neck, all these years later, and wondered what the stakes might be this time.

The cells were stone on three sides, with bars across the front. There were four on this level. The first three were empty, but Lena found the rebel leader in the last one.

Lena was surprised they had put her behind plain iron bars, but given the nature of her restraints, she supposed the cell was a mere formality. The Elian, _Kara_ , Lena reminded herself, sat against the back wall, hands in her lap, green jewels gleaming around her wrists. She was still cloaked, her hood resting in folds across her shoulders and swathes of red fabric pooling on the floor around her like a skirt, but the braids holding back her hair were beginning to come undone, a few wisps of gold escaping to curl around her face, and she had a smudge of dirt across one cheek.

She looked more girl than God, but then Lex had never looked like a monster to Lena’s eyes either.

“You lied to me.”

Kara seemed startled by the accusation, full lips parting in surprise for a moment before she spoke. “No more than you did to me,” she pointed out.

“A fair point,” Lena admitted, somewhat grudgingly. She hadn’t expected to have that turned around on her. “Then you knew who I was?”

 Kara nodded. “I’ve seen you before.”

“In the Capital?” Lena frowned. She didn’t like the idea that Kara might be more familiar with her history than she was with Kara’s. It put her at a disadvantage, and she seemed always to be at a disadvantage lately. Surely, as the one _outside_ the cell she should have the upper hand for once.

“No.” Kara shook her head. “Here.”

“In the dungeon?” Lena asked, brow raised. “I’m fairly certain I would remember that.”

A faint smile tilted the corner of Kara’s mouth. “The Castle,” she clarified. “It was a long time ago. My foster mother had brought me and Alex with her on a visit to the old Queen. You and your brother were staying with Max for the summer.  I was spying on you in the gardens, and Max was bragging about beating Lex at this game they’d both been learning. You challenged him to a match, and he almost wouldn’t play, because you were a kid, and a girl, and then you _won_ , and I remember being glad, because he was such a bully, and a sneak when no one was watching, and you seemed so nice and pretty...” She ducked her head. “I never forgot that, it was the only time I’d ever seen someone make Max look stupid and get away with it.”

“I see... “ Lena remembered that day, it was the first time she’d played Chess against anyone other than her brother, and now that she thought about it, there _had_ been a little girl loitering at the edge of the gardens; small and wide-eyed under a wild tangle of curly blond hair. She’d asked Max about her, but churlish over his loss, he’d simply dismissed her as a servant’s brat. “He _was_ an insufferable ass back then,” She agreed, willing to concede that Kara might be telling the truth. About this at least.

“So why approach me in the city?” she asked. “Our families haven’t exactly been the best of friends lately, so you there must have been something you wanted.”

“You looked lost,” Kara said. “I wanted to help, I still do. Lord Maxwell was a selfish, arrogant and cruel child, and he’s only gotten worse since his parents died. By coming here you’ve put yourself in his power, and he won’t hesitate to use you in any way he can.” She stood up, cloak swirling around her. “Lena, I know he was your friend once, but you can’t trust him.”

Lena scoffed, resisting the urge to back up as Kara stepped forward. She refused to be the one giving ground here. “And I suppose you’re going to tell me that I should trust _you_ instead?”

“I know it’s difficult to believe,” Kara admitted, taking another step forward. “But Lena, we could help each other. You need allies, and my people need a voice...”

And there it was... _That_ was what this had been about. The helpful girl from the city, the shared childhood memories... the _concern_... Lena berated herself for nearly being taken in, she’d _known_ Kara had had some ulterior motive, but she couldn’t deny that there had been a part of her, the last lonely little piece not completely tarnished by a life of being used and manipulated, that had _hoped..._ But no, it was all nothing more than a clumsily transparent attempt to seduce her to their cause.

“And why should I align myself with you?” She demanded. “The El Mayarah may be heroes in the eyes of ignorant peasants and criminals, but in my experience you’re nothing but thugs, thieves and murderers who care more about power and revenge than in actually helping anyone.”

Kara took a step back, hurt flickering briefly over her face before it was replaced by a cold, quiet anger. “We are not _thugs,_ ” she said softly. “And I will not let royal propaganda, and old grievances ruin any chance I have of saving my people. I know that you’ve been betrayed before Lena, and right now you’re alone, and scared, but you don’t need Lord Maxwell and his lies. You’re the _Queen_ -”

“Didn’t you hear?” Lena interrupted her, swallowing hard to steady her voice against a threatening tremor. “The _true_ Queen has locked herself away in Cadmus Castle, along with most of the royal army, and I have no way of getting either of them back. So _yes_ , I do need Max, because without his help, I’m not a queen, or even a princess, I’m just a royal bastard in a pretty dress.”

 “At least you’re not locked up in a cell,” Kara pointed out, holding up her bound hands.

Lena exhaled roughly, feeling a little of the tension ebb from her shoulders. “True enough,” She conceded, gesturing towards the bracelets. “Will those actually hold you?”

“For now.” Kara dropped her hands.

“Why turn yourself in?” Lena was having difficulty reconciling this Kara; passionate and proud, and _angry,_ but also vulnerable, with the simple, warm and golden girl from the city, or the monstrous, bloody nightmares of her childhood. The contradictions were giving her a headache. “You could have slaughtered every guard in that courtyard before the hangman even had time to blink. The El Mayarah don’t exactly have a history of peaceful negotiations, so why not just storm the castle and take your people back?”

“Is that what you would have done?” Kara asked, curiously. She looked like she was honestly interested in the answer, rather than simply deflecting, and her sincerity caught Lena off guard.

“I...” She hesitated. There was a time when she would have killed for Lex. She had stood at his side while he burned Elian villages to the ground, one after another; unable to believe that her big brother would have ever asked her to do anything wrong. It had taken years for her to truly see what he had become, and even then... Lena shook her head. “I would have done what I had to do for my family.”

Kara nodded. “So did I.”

Lena frowned. “I don’t understand. You’re their leader, how does being in this cell help your people?”

“You said it yourself,” Kara explained. “The El Mayarah, for all the good they’ve tried to do, are too often seen as monsters; violent, and dangerous. I’m hoping to change that. Maybe, by surrendering myself, I can prove we’re more than just ‘thugs,’ as you called us.”

Lena rolled her eyes. “So you think that if _you_ refuse to kill for your cause, all will be forgiven?” Are you really naive enough to believe you can avoid bloodshed?” she mocked. “Or are you just afraid of getting your hands dirty?”

 There was no warning.

One moment, Kara was standing quietly in the middle of the cell, and the next she had struck, faster than lightning, faster than anything human, cloak flaring out around her, and all Lena could see was _red_. Red and gold, and cold, _cold,_ blue eyes.  She felt a tug around her neck, and then her shoulders hit the wall behind her. Heart pounding, and chest heaving, she pressed a hand over her mouth to stifle a strangled cry.

Dangling from Kara’s bound hands was Lena’s mother’s necklace, the green stone swinging in slow spirals at the end of its chain.

“Do you know what this is?” Kara asked softly.

Lena shook her head. She knew what it _did,_ but no one really knew what it _was_.

“We call it El’s fire,” Kara explained. “When El died, and the walls between our worlds collapsed, stranding us here, pieces of our home came along with us. The forest of El and its beasts, the magic your witches wield, and _this_...” She raised the necklace.  

“In our world it was sacred; precious and rare, and found only in the deepest caves. There, it granted peace, clarity, and even visions, if you were lucky.  We stood before it to make our vows, pledge allegiances, and hold vigils for the lost.

“But here... under the yellow sun of your human world, it _burns_.

“Humans found pieces of it, and for years they’ve used it to make baubles and ornaments. And then _your_ family discovered its true nature, and used it to murder every last member of _mine_ , one by one, until I was the last. Now Max will probably try to use it to kill me.” She tossed the necklace onto the floor between them, the silver casing hitting the flagstones with a sharp _ping_. “Don’t mistake restraint for weakness, or idealism for lack of conviction. I can and _will_ kill to protect the people I have left, but I won’t be anyone’s monster.”

“So you’ll be a martyr instead?” Lena demanded, wishing the idea of seeing Kara in her sister’s place in the gallows didn’t leave her so cold.

Kara shrugged, retreating to the back of her cell and sinking down to the floor again, shoulders against the wall and hands in her lap. “There are worse things,” she said pointedly.

“You think I plan to continue my family’s feud?” Lena scooped up her necklace, holding it tight in trembling fingers.

Kara shook her head. “You are not your brother, Lena. And you’re not like Max either. You have a choice, but you’re going to have to make it soon.” She looked up to meet Lena’s eyes, conveying a wealth of sorrow and loss, but also strength and determination... and something else that looked suspiciously like pity. “And then you’re going to have to live with it.”

 

 

To say Lena was shaken when she left the dungeons would have been an understatement. She’d known it was a mistake before she’d gone, but she’d needed answers. Lena might not share her brother’s all consuming hatred for anything and anyone non-human, but she didn’t like being tricked. Moreover, she was uncomfortable with the realization that Kara had fooled her so completely that she had even entertained thoughts of... well, nothing that would be appropriate to consider now.

She had hoped for closure. To prove to herself that the girl she had met in the city was nothing more than an illusion.

Instead, she had only added to her own uncertainty. The path she had laid out for herself when she left home no longer seemed clear. There were forks in the road, and she could only guess at where they might lead.  Of one thing she was sure; by allying herself with Max, she would be choosing a side in more than one war. Hartley had been right when he’d suggested Max’s price might not be one she was willing to pay.

Maggie was waiting for her at the top of the stairs.

“That bad?” she asked, sensing Lena’s mood with her usual acumen.

“Worse,” Lena admitted. “But not here.”

Maggie nodded and fell into place behind her, following Lena back to the suite of rooms that had been provided for her and her modest retinue. There were only five; three guards besides Maggie, and Jess; her lady’s maid, servant and page all in one. They weren’t the sum total of those loyal to her, but the rest had been left behind in the capitol to hold the siege against Cadmus. The loyalty of her General, the Lady Lucea, or Lucy, as Lena had always known her, was the only reason she had any hope against Lillian at all.  

Any discussion of Kara, El Mayarah, or the war would have to wait however. When they reached their rooms, they found Jess already in a state of near panic, her agitation decreasing only marginally when she saw them.

“My Lady! I’ve been searching the whole castle for you! Lord Maxwell has finally sent a summons for your audience. He wishes to see you in no more than an hour, and you are to ride out on horseback, so we must get you changed, and redo your hair, and I’ve sent orders down to have your horse readied...” She practically dragged Lena into the room, already tugging on her clothing. Her expert fingers made quick work of the simple gown and she had Lena stripped down to her underthings in moments. “I’ve already lain out your clothes, get dressed and then I’ll do your hair.” She pushed Lena towards the bed where her riding habit was waiting, before rounding on Maggie. She gave the guard a critical once over. “You’ll do. Lord Maxwell requested Lady Lena’s presence only, but I sent a message insisting on a chaperone, so you’ll be going along, and the Lord will have one of his men as well. You’re to remain out of earshot, but within sight at all times.”

Maggie saluted the tiny woman without a single trace of irony. No one argued with Jess. She might not wear a sword, but her tongue was sharper than any blade, and her loyalty to Lena was unquestionable. She had been in the castle when Lillian had staged her coup, and no one knew for sure exactly how she had managed to not only escape, but also make it alone across thirty miles of hostile territory to find Lena and the sorry remains of her army. She’d refused to be left behind with the others when Lena had set out in her search for allies, insisting that her place was at Lena’s side, and there she had stayed, doing her level best to keep them all civilized and presentable.

If they ever managed to pull this off, Lena was going to give her a title and entire household of servants to boss around.

 

 

“My lady,” Max greeted her warmly when Lena led her small white mare into the courtyard.

He was already mounted, his black gelding pawing restively at the cobblestones. He corrected it with a small jerk to the reins, and the gelding snorted, setting its jaw against the bit before settling, but Lena could still see rebellion in the set of its ears and the way its tail clamped tightly to its hindquarters. She suspected the horse’s tension was more its masters than its own.

“Lord Maxwell,” Lena returned, swinging herself smoothly into the saddle, split skirts allowing her to ride astride. Her mare stood quietly; Lena had no intentions of revealing her own disquiet. There had been some advantages to having Lillian as a step mother. If the queen had taught her anything, it was how to conceal anything she didn’t want known.  She had forgotten herself in the dungeons, but she must remember now, or risk everything.

Max led the way out the front gates, Lena nudging her mare to follow alongside. Maggie on her tall roan, and Max’s guard on a blocky chestnut trailed behind. They followed the main road, exchanging the necessary pleasantries about the weather, overcast and unseasonably cool for mid-spring, and stale bits of gossip regarding mutual acquaintances among the nobility, until they reached a side track leading up into a fallow pasture.

The field was bordered by thick forest to the north, giving them shelter from the wind. The track itself was wide enough for them to ride abreast, and Lena noted that Max took the wooded side, putting himself between her and the trees. It might have been taken as a courtesy, any wild animals or bandits would have to get through him to reach her, but the part of Lena that calculated everything couldn’t help but suspect that it had more to with keeping her out in the open, where his larger mount wouldn’t lose the advantage over her slim mare.

Lena waited until they had crested a small hill before pulling her mare in and turning to look out over the view. A patchwork quilt of fields and farms in gold, green and brown rolled out beneath them, leading down to the city; a rough circle of varying greys, scattered with bits of colour, with the castle a lighter square at its center.  The sky stretched out grey and cold above, darker storm clouds gathering ominously on the horizon.

“Does it make you miss home?” Max asked, surprisingly astute.

“A little,” Lena admitted. “Lex and I used to ride out like this, before our father died. We’d look down on the city from above, and talk about all the changes we would make, when it was his.”

Max urged his gelding closer, their knees bumping together gently. “My condolences for your loss. Lex was a good friend, though we didn’t always agree towards the end.”

“And yet you seem to be continuing his work,” Lena pointed out. Her mare shifted underneath her, leaning a little on Lena’s leg, as if she would like to step away from Max’s gelding, though she didn’t move her feet. Lena sympathised, but held her in place.

“You mean the El Mayarah?” Max frowned. “They’re nothing but rogues and bandits, and I’ll deal with them the same way I would any criminals in Tional. I have no quarrel with Elians who keep the peace. They’re welcome to their villages and forests.”

“And in the city? How are they treated there?”

Max shrugged, seemingly unconcerned, but his gelding side-stepped, jostling into her, and Lena gently reined her mare to the side, giving them a little space. Max pulled it back into place, giving it a heavy kick to the side when it threatened to shift again. “Officially, they’re welcome, unofficially...” he shook his head. “I can’t force my people to accept non-humans among them as equals, and I won’t try. Elians in the city can either accept the situation, or go elsewhere.”

Lena had expected as much. From what she’d heard, that was more or less exactly what things in the Capitol had been like, before her mother’s death. “So you won’t protect them?”

“Any deaths are investigated,” Max said. “And I won’t have slavery in my city. Other than that... they’re free to leave if they’re mistreated.”

And go where? Lena didn’t ask, she knew what the answer would be. Beasts belonged in the forest. Never mind that many of them had been born in a city, and had no more idea how to make a living in the country than any other city brat, or they had come to the city as refugees, their village destroyed by the true monsters, or on the whim of some gentleman or woman, who decided they didn’t want non-humans on their land. Max might claim not to discriminate, but she doubted he cared if his landholders did a little house cleaning of their own.

“And the woman you took into custody?” Lena asked, carefully.  “What’s your plan for her?”

“That depends on you,” Max replied unexpectedly, steering his gelding away down the path, apparently giving up on trying to make it stand still, or maybe Max was the one who needed to move.

Lena followed, knowing Maggie would keep them in sight. “How so?”

“I’m a clever man, my Lady,” he said over his shoulder. “But even an idiot could guess why you’re here. You want the crown, but the old Queen holds both the army and Cadmus Castle, and if it comes to civil war, Lord White, and Lady Crane won’t go against Lillian. Lady Grant might back you, but she has no standing army, and her Elian sympathies are well known, meaning she’d likely have even more trouble finding allies than you will. I’m the only neutral party with the resources you need, and we were friends as children, so you might hope to play on my sympathies.”

A fair summation, but nothing they didn’t both already know. She nodded, waiting for Max to continue.

He obliged her. “You and I together might be able to take Lillian on, if Percival and Miranda can be persuaded to keep out of it, but I’d rather not plunge the country into war if another, mutually beneficial arrangement can be found.”

Lena raised a brow, urging her mare up beside Max. “And this arrangement would be?”

Max grinned. “Marriage. You and me, we join Houses Maxwell and Luthor, and rule as King and Queen, side by side.”

Lena supposed she should have seen that coming... It made sense, but it still, she suppressed a shudder. “Lillian would never agree to that,” she pointed out, somewhat relieved to have found a flaw in his logic. “I’m at least a Luthor, if only a bastard. You’re nothing to her. Why would she hand the crown over to us?”

 If anything Max’s smile grew wider. “Because I have something she wants.”

And suddenly it all made sense. “You’ll offer her Kara...”

“The last winged God of EL,” Max confirmed.  “The only true Elian left in this world, for all we use that name for the rest of the non-humans. I can’t give her the God who actually killed her son, he died with Lex in the fire, but I don’t think Lillian will care, so long as she has one of them to skin and roast over an open flame.”

Lena shivered with a chill that had nothing to do with the cold. He would do it, she had no trouble believing that. Max would package Kara up and deliver her to Lillian to be slowly tortured to death in revenge for a crime she hadn’t committed, and in return, Lillian would give him Lena. As the reigning queen, however illegitimately, only Lillian could sanction a royal wedding, and with her approval, the other Lords and Ladies would support the match as well.

Lillian would still rule, for now, but after her death the throne would pass to Lena, by which time Lena was sure Max would have made certain that she had no true power. She would hold a hollow crown, and her country would be in the hands of a man who cared more about power than the people.

_Again._

It would all be for _nothing._

Lena wanted to scream, but she forced herself to look thoughtful instead. “Have you already spoken of this to my step-mother?”

“I sent a messenger when I took the Elian into custody,” Max said. “I suspect I’ll have a reply soon. In the meantime, I urge you to accept my continued hospitality, though I must ask that you forgo any further visits into the city.” He was still smiling, but there no warmth in his eyes. “And I’ll have an escort on hand for you, a few good men, no more, should you feel the need to leave the castle for any reason.”

It was a threat. Thinly veiled, but only for the sake of courtesy, Lena expected.

At least she wasn’t locked up...

That had been true.

This morning.   

 

 

They returned to the castle just as dusk was settling. Lena had managed to put Max off for now, begging for time to think over his offer, and he had acquiesced, telling her to take all the time she needed. She didn’t imagine he was ignorant of her concerns. But she suspected _he_ thought _she_ considered herself clever enough to outwit him. He might even be relishing the idea of the challenge. Max enjoyed a good fight, and he was used to winning.

But she’d beat him once before.

And if circumstances were different, she might even have been willing to try her hand at it again. Max wasn’t the only one who could scheme, and for all his resources, she wasn’t without tricks of her own. He might be planning to hand her an empty crown, but Lena could make her own plans, and she would have _years_ to put them into motion _._ Lillian wasn’t likely to hand over power until she absolutely had to.

If circumstances were different.

Lena gave her mare to a groom, there was no way Max was going to leave her unsupervised in the stable, not now, and sent Maggie to find Jess and tell her to have dinner for three sent to her rooms. Max would expect she was nursing her wounded pride, and she would let him have that small victory. It wouldn’t lull him into complacency, but it might take the edge off.

Max didn’t escort her all the way to her rooms, but Lena could feel his eyes on her far longer than she would have liked. Maggie and Jess met her there, but they waited for the servant to come and go with their dinner before sitting down at the small table together.

She explained their situation in simple terms while they ate, leaving out her personal feelings for now.

“So we’re prisoners,” Jess summed up.

Maggie snorted. “Bastard,”

“Quite,” Lena agreed. “But I have a few ideas. Maggie, can you get out of the castle unseen?”

The guard smirked. “Not a problem.”

Lena nodded, she hadn’t been sure, not until right now, but she knew what she wanted to do. “Go, tonight. I need you to get a message to someone for me.” She stood and went to her bedside table, opening the drawer and taking something out.  She slid it across the table, the candlelight glinting red off the polished curve under her fingers before she withdrew them. “Take this with you,” she said. “You’ll need it when you find her.”

Maggie picked up the small metal feather, bright red against her dusky skin. She knew what it meant, but she still asked, “Who am I looking for?”

“Alexandra Danvers.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find me at blackteaandbones.tumblr.com


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